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Lowliest of Hierarchy by Arbiter
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Lowliest of Hierarchy
Date: 4 October 2005, 2:46 pm
Lowliest of Hierarchy
SL
Prologue
The Covenant Holy City, High Charity glinted like a marveling spectacle, it was almost as splendid as Halo. In the domicile of the city a utopia of Hierarchs composes they're Covenant with zealous and reverence. The Covenant castes make High Charity they're favored or coerced home.
The Elites and Prophets contrived the Covenant and began their conquest for their religious exodus. The Brutes next in caste joined the Covenant and helped encounter the Great Journey, the Covenant's promise. The next were the mighty Hunters, cleaved to the Covenant by submissive. Following were the Jackals and Drones the subservient species serving the Covenant. And the persevering race and the lowliest of the Hierarchy, the Grunts.
The Grunts were small beings coming from a bemired environment they rely on rebreathers to produce methane for them. They wear suits with humps on them to contain their methane. They are lead into battle by their leaders, the Elites. The Grunts respect their leaders but are not valued in return. They are considered by their fellow workers, the Jackals, and the Drones, as wretched and worthless.
But as the Grunts they are not anticipated to do anything exceptional they are sanctioned as the lowest race of the Covenant caste. One Grunt nonetheless can change the Covenant as a revered race. One Grunt can alter the war and be admitted into the Divine Beyond as the race praised…
Urban Sect
The Grunt walked amongst themselves in their quarters, a tier of trees from the Grunt world were placed in creases of the violet base. The quarters looked like it was outside for the insects buzzing around and the environment, yet it was in the holy abode.
An ether seal of air separating methane was on the opposite side of the immense chamber. Occult blue hazes of methane sodden the chamber, and there were machines and terminals on the periphery. Next to each terminal was a small snug and inside were the uniforms of the Grunt.
In these quarters they were not permitted to where uniform, and not ordered everywhere, which they quite liked. The Grunts in here were undraped, exposing their feeble structure. One Grunt was slouching back into the giant chamber in full uniform.
Sayare the Grunt walked to the snugs in the wall, he removed his rebreather and gulped fresh methane, and he undid his uniform. He put his mask in his designated snug, and put his green ranked 'gunner' suit in too.
Sayare's throat gabbed as he breathed; he pushed the terminal and twisted his arm into the hold. The wall revealed a hidden door and Sayare accessed himself in the compartment.
The Grunt yawned at his sibling on the other side of the compartment; his sibling was snoring in his own slumber pit. Sayare walked into his pit and aligned the methane in the pit to be frigid. Sayare situated himself in a curl and yawned once more in the stifling methane and drowsed off.
Covet without Reward
The Grunts were abruptly waken by the Elites and brought into the square in the middle of the chamber. An elevator pylon protruded from the base and out spurted more Elite. It was another day…
The Grunts were ushered out of their compartments and into the stands in the middle of the Grunt Quarter. The Elites motioned for the Grunts to follow and they situated themselves in the stands. Sayare sat next to his kinsman, Aralah who snorted back into sleep.
"Grunts! We are gathering you for segregation!" The Elite in the middle of the square barked.
Sayare thought of the Covenant caste as his devotion, if he contributed to it, it would give back. Sayare was alienated from the other Grunts for thinking this way, and he entreated himself to be like everybody else.
Sayare knew segregation was a atypical election before a large battle, where each Elite veteran would choose his selection of Grunts to train or use as a personal assistant. Sayare nudged Aralah and he woke with a alarming chortle.
"Form up into uniform!" One of the Elite yelled.
The Grunt got up and went to their diverse snugs. Sayare and Aralah went to theirs and implemented in their combat outfits. Sayare adjusted Aralah's yellow suit and arched the hump into the Grunt's back. Sayare reached into the Grunt's hinter and twisted the seal locking the methane into his structure.
Aralah gave a throaty chatter in thanks, and Sayare consented back. Sayare reached into his weapons cache and pulled out a Needler, he put his palm inside and felt the hard crystallites under his diminutive fingers. Sayare felt like this was where he belonged for an uncanny reason, he believed in certainty, which he believed would compensate him someday.
Sayare gated back into a systematic line and snapped into a upright position as the Elite walked past them looking at the Grunt. He heard the Elite choose different Grunts and they traveled to the middle pylon and up the elevator.
A veteran Elite walked in a prideful gait by Sayare and Aralah, he paced back and forth and looked at Sayare with a reproachful expression. The Grunt bustled to stay still, he was confident but he despised being scanned by the Elite as if they were daft or effective.
"You! What is your designation, Grunt?" The Elite grumbled, pointing his sturdy arm at him.
"Sayare, Field Master" The Grunt uttered.
The Elite clicked his mandibles impatiently and lingered in a deep tenet. When he spoke he spoke not with cruel malice as most Elite speak but with a tentative potent voice.
"I am Field Master Skir 'Laddamee from now on you will address me as Leader. Understand?"
Aralah looked jealous of such a good leader and put his hands up to recede attention as Sayare muttered approval. The Elite looked wearied at the Grunt but perked his attention at his enthusiasm.
"Now what is yours, Ardent One?" The Elite asked with interest.
"Aralah, Leader" Aralah said with eagerness.
"I respect that in an Grunt, zeal to serve. You both will serve as my squad, along with Marr" 'Laddamee said gesturing the Jackal from behind him.
A Jackal revealed himself from behind 'Laddamee. The Jackal hissed at the two Grunts, but looked subtle to them. Sayare knew that the Grunts and Jackals were on friendly terms but the Jackals felt they held a more important role in the Hierarchy. They also didn't speak emblem tongue, and the Elites, Brutes, and Prophets could only understand them.
The Elite motioned for them to follow him, and they all leaped into the center gravlift. As the Grunts sped into the air, they left their methane rich quarter and up the elevator. Aralah looked down at Sayare in the elevator and laughed shrugging his shoulders in floating linger. Sayare laughed back he respected his sibling to stand up hence that they could be in the same squad.
Sayare had been Aralah's only kin and they spent the last two ages in High Charity. Sayare had more experience in war, and he told Aralah of combat. Sayare fought the Humans on Halo and was transferred back to his home on High Charity when the incompetent Elite Commander lost Halo to the Humans. Sayare told horrid stories of the parasitic disease called the Flood and that if you got caught by one they converted you into a fleshy worker, which he described as "horrific death."
They reached the top of the gravlift and landed on the hard violet base, they saw crowds of Elites, Brutes, Grunts, Jackals, Drones and Hunters gathering in the Punishment Annex. Beside them were hovering décor and they positioned themselves behind a protuberance.
Sayare knew that the Commander of Particular Justice was being punished for losing Halo, he would bare the Mark of Shame for life, a burden that is a living doom of misery.
Sayare anticipated this, he watched the door in the center beep to life, and the Elite Commander was escorted by three massive Brutes. Aralah and Sayare both chanted in amity.
"He-re-tic! He-re-tic!"
The roar of the crowd agreed clamoring together.
"Let him be an example to all who would break our Covenant!"
Grunt's Quarters
Do I have to fight?
The Grunt gathered around the square talking amid about their status in the Covenant, most were panicky and stuttered under their inhalation but Sayare was anxious to present his skills.
Aralah paced tautly in their compartment, Sayare encouraging him that they were doing their objective. Sayare sat at the luminous silver table and supped mellifluous nectar from the teat of the flagon.
"Me never been in battle what am I going to do?!" Aralah screeched, regretting his volunteer under 'Laddamee.
"You be as proficient as me" Sayare said confidently draining his flagon in a gulp.
Aralah looked but some comforted and he sat and swilled the thick methane in his chest. They then went to their slumbering pit; Grunt's lives consisted of veneration, and rest.
Sayare crouched and drowsed into reverie portraying his species with total abstract.
The Grunts were waken once again by the Elites, Sayare gripped the wake and gathered his bearings into a fuzzy image. He walked out the door and fitted into his Gunner outfit, he polished the Grunt symbol on his chest and grabbed his rebreather and hesitantly put it over his head and inhaled stale methane.
'Laddamee and Marr met them in the square and they climbed into the shaft going upward with invisible momentum. They headed for the action pit under a valley of gravlifts that propelled them down.
"What we doing?" Aralah said curiously. "Leader?" He quickly added looking at the Elite.
"We are practicing for battle, Aralah" 'Laddamee answered.
Marr hissed a obvious whisper, clearly saying something impatiently to the Elite.
"No, Marr I think they have spirit" Laddamee said grinning but looking irrupted with infuriating.
Sayare rolled his tiny eyes at the Jackal and followed the Leader with haste. They entered a large pit, teeming with Elites, Hunters, Drones, Jackals, Brutes, and Grunts.
The pit was metallic with silver ground. There were several stationary shields and barriers blocking a wall that had silver and blue balls hanging in metal snugs-Holodrones. They positioned themselves behind a barrier and waited for instructions.
"Ready your weapons!" The Elite barked.
Marr brandished a Plasma Pistol and lit a azure blue shield that glistened in the metal lighting. Aralah shakily exposed a Plasma Pistol and checked its battery.
"You be okay, just practice" Sayare chuckled slightly.
'Laddamee grabbed two Holodrones from the wall and stood on the opposite side.
"Ready?" The Elite said staring at his squad with irritated yet contented eyes.
The Jackal and the two Grunts raised their weapons and they shouldered fear and practiced. The Elite flicked two Holodrones in the air, they floated in the air and disported into Human "Marinez."
They carried Battle Rifles and they raised their weapons at the little beings and fired.
Sayare ducked behind the barrier, he ushered Aralah to but the Grunt got hit with a imaginary projectile made of pure energy. It still hurt making the practice reality.
Sayare raised his Needler and punched the purple crystals at the scrawny Human. The Human limped in red blood and suddenly stopped as a charged plasma bolt from Aralah passed the head of the human, Sayare then shot more needles and the Holodrone ball dropped to the floor.
The other Human's projectile skimmed Sayare's shoulder and Sayare gave a gasp of pain. Marr reflected the fake projectiles sideways and Aralah shot two discharges which thoroughly slipped and Sayare throttled the nose of the Needler and the crystallites arched into the Human's skin and he dissolved into the ball.
"Well done, Sayare!" Their leader said compliantly. "Marr, watch for pressure on the battery, Aralah did the simulator you were using hinder your targeting?" The Elite snapped.
'No, Leader, Try harder next time" Aralah said, looking shocked.
"Obliged, and Sayare your compiling is impeccable and pure even for your kind you are committed fully" The Elite said.
Sayare and Aralah were dismissed, Sayare blankly stared at a Drone flying toward the gravlift and it went up in abrupt manner, buzzing at the Grunts. He was committed fully and he never dreamt, in the thousand dreams he flitted through would he alter the epitome of the Grunts…
Continued…
SL
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